It was just another day in Southern Le'raana; the clouds had commonly decided not to attend the world at this day, leaving the baking hot desert city of Essyrn open to the blazing fury of the sun itself. For most people who weren't use to this flaming bonanza of heat, one would find themselves experiencing quite the traumatic sunstroke. However, Bile was not one of the "most people" said. In fact, he was part of a species that did not exist, a species that he himself had "dubbed" himself. A desert elf.
Now most people would laugh at this mere fact, but it was true. His tan skin shined among the barren sandlands that surrounded him wherever he went, his marauders leather accompanying him while he strode along. His recent earnings from previous raids gave him the chance today to go to Essyrn and hopefully get some goods for him to live off of. Of course, he could have also as easily brought down a trade caravan.
This time, Bile had decided not to bring his trusty horse with him, instead choosing to walk the whole way, something he hasn't done in ages. The blistering sun truly did prove to be a force to be reckoned, but Bile could hold on for longer. As he finally reached the desert city, Essyrn located himself to the nearby merchants pub.
The Harbinger's Grog read the awkwardly drawn billboard sign outside. The harbinger's grog? Haha! Sounds like a fun place to be in thought Bile to himself. He would do that often times, evaluate places based on their names. Usually he was right, but usually didn't mean always.
A large black figure stood in front of Bile as he attempted to enter the empty store.
"Wait, you need to be inspected first young elf." spoke the huge black man in a nearly monstrous tone. It had been so rough, it nearly...if only a tiny bit, scared Bile. However, Bile was not in the mood to be inspected....as he had loads of weapons on him at the very moment.
"Sorry, Mr. Security Guard, but I'm afraid you're going to have to let me in without any inspecting." replied Bile in a slight maniacal grin, along with his unsheathing of his claymore. Bile had been standing in an outside corridor that was not actually inside the store yet. The spur of metal and the brisk sight of the man's severed head filled out the scenery in its morbid wake. There had been no sound, and there was no pain to be felt. It was all too quick.
And so Bile continued further into the shop, making sure to whipe off the blood stains on his claymore before sheathing it into his ornate handle-holder. There was a rather tight selection of goods at the shop. Most likely a rogue group of bandits had robbed the city earlier. However, that was not Bile's problem...it was theirs.
"Do you have any real food!" exclaimed Bile while eyeing the suspiciously looking pile of mold that lay on the counter.
"Sorry sir...a few days ago a group of ban--" before the old man could finish his sentence, a quick thrust of Bile's claymore engraved itself within his heart, ending his life quickly and awkwardly in a sense.
Damn that old man. I'll just take whatever I can get. thought Bile to himself before collecting the extensive pile of rotten grub.
